


Collecting Secrets Like Stones

by nixajane



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage, Non-Linear Narrative, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nixajane/pseuds/nixajane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You challenged me, and you won," Loki says easily. It is one of Loki's greatest talents, that. The way he can get exactly what he means to, and then convince his opponent that he's the victor. Everyone always believes Loki so weak because of it, because he always gives the glory to another. </p>
<p>Fandral has always seen through it. He knows that Loki's the only one of them that's never truly lost a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collecting Secrets Like Stones

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/12950.html?thread=31957910#t31957910) on norsekink.

10

Odin winds the dark purple threads around their wrists, tying them together. It is meant to be symbolic, but Fandral feels a tiny shock travel up his arm from where the rope twists around. It is no small thing, he knows, making this sort of pledge to a Prince.

"It is done," Odin says, his rough voice gentled enough to be nearly unrecognizable. "You are bound eternal." 

_It is done_ may not be the most romantic way to pronounce a marriage, but Fandral can see Odin's approval in the way he watches Loki—proud, in a way he hasn't looked at him in far too long. Frigga is off to the side, her arm clutched by Thor, and she looks like she's trying not to cry. 

Volstagg, predictably, breaks the spell with an inelegant shout. "And now we feast!" 

Fandral smiles widely as Loki pulls experimentally at their bond. He glances up into those sparking green eyes, and knows he doesn't need magic to keep him bound. A little smirk forms on Loki's face, as though he knows each and every one of his new husband's thoughts. 

"Any regrets?" Loki whispers in his ear, quiet enough Fandral is the only one to hear. 

He just laughs in response, not worried in the least. Let Odin weave his spells around them, it matters not. 

Fandral has been lost to Loki for years before this—he's been bound eternal since their very first kiss.

4

"I'll kill him, I swear it," Fandral vows. Loki tightens his grip on his arm, forcing him out of sight into the palace library. Fandral pulls away again the moment that they're alone.

"You need to calm down," Loki says. 

"He wants to go to Svartalfheim for some imagined slight," Fandral shouts. "He will get us all killed for naught!" 

"If I recall, it was not you that he asked to accompany him," Loki says. 

"You think I'm not going with you?" Fandral demands. "You can't be serious." 

"I can keep Thor safe without any help from you," Loki says. 

"It is not Thor that I worry over!" he shouts. "No, this is madness, and I will not let you go alone." 

"You cannot let me do anything," Loki replies calmly. "It is no concern of yours. My brother has asked for my help and my help alone, and I will go." 

"You don't get to do that." Fandral feels like he's about to break apart from frustration, but Loki looks almost as though he's been carved from marble he's so still and poised. "You don't get to have what we have, and then just cast it aside as it suits you. We are either together in this or we are not. You need to make a decision." 

"I do? It is not I that has such a very long list of admirers," Loki interrupts smoothly. 

Fandral has always hated this aspect of arguing with Loki. There is never any fire to their fights. Loki has plenty of it, but he keeps it too well contained. He takes it and refines it down into such small smoldering words; they prick at him as they're spoken but only later does he realize just how badly he has been burned. 

"Perhaps not," Fandral says. "But none of them have my heart. I don't belong to them, but you belong to him, Loki. Everyone knows it."

"Everyone belongs to him," Loki says, evenly. "He is to be King." 

"This is not how he is meant to lead," Fandral snaps. "Why do you—?" 

"And what should I do?" Loki asks. "Should I go to my parents, and advise them against spoiling their first born so thoroughly? Should I go to them and tell them that Asgard will fall, if they place a crown upon his head?" 

"Loki—" Fandral sighs. 

"Because I have already done that," Loki continues. "It is why my father cannot stand to look me in my eyes. He thinks I’m trying to manipulate them into giving me the throne."

Fandral looks away, knowing that there is nothing he can say that Loki has not already figured out for himself. The difference between them is that Loki will go along with Thor anyway, no matter what it might cost. 

"I'm just tired of this," Fandral says. "I'm tired of this place, and all our quests that accomplish nothing. I'm tired of pretending to bed every pretty little thing I meet when the only one I want beside me is you." 

"Then get better at pretending," Loki says, watching him with that sharp green gaze. 

"Is that your answer to everything?" Fandral demands. 

"Actually, yes," Loki says dryly. 

"What if we didn't have to pretend anymore? Either of us?" he asks. "We could run away together. Somewhere far away from all of this. From everyone." 

Fandral sometimes imagines he can see the plans taking form in Loki's eyes. The tiny little fragments of his irises, pulling and circling and coming together just right, like the gears in the Bifrost. This time the plan disappears from his eyes almost before it starts. 

"They would find us," he says simply. 

"Not if you didn't want them to," Fandral says knowingly. "You think I don't know you have ways around even Heimdall's gaze?"

"And what is to become of Thor, and your warriors?" Loki asks. "Shall they start calling themselves the Warriors Two?" 

"Maybe they'll finally take in Sif officially so they can keep the damn name, what does it matter?" Fandral demands. 

"They're your family, don't act as though they're not," Loki says. "They are your family as Thor is mine." 

"And if we stay here they will tear us apart," Fandral says.

7

Fandral is in the farthest corner of the tavern, on his eighth mug of mead, when Loki appears out of the shadows beside him. He moves to sit on the empty stool to his right, but says nothing. He just appears, and sits, as though this is perfectly normal Loki-behavior. As though he has not had to be dragged here, every other time he's stepped foot inside.

"What are you doing here?" Fandral asks. He tries to keep his voice level, so he won't sound like it hurts, but he doesn't think he quite manages it. Loki has always been too good at this game, and Fandral knows he's out of his league. 

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," Loki says. 

_I surrender_ , Loki had said, so many months ago. It was a typical Loki sort of move. He says _I surrender_ when really he's just extracted himself from the battle altogether. 

"I had thought we might still be friends," Loki continues. "I never thought—" 

"Never thought what? That I wouldn't just move on?" Fandral demands. He's dropped the pretense of the philandering womanizer: of Fandral, the Dashing. What was the point? It had all just become part of Loki's sleight of hand. _If you truly wish to fool someone, give them what they expect._

"You act like this is what I wanted," Loki says. "You're the one that forced my hand." 

Fandral laughs bitterly, staring down into his empty cup. "Oh, yes," he says. "I forgot, that was the arrangement, right? I forgot that I had won." 

"Yes, you challenged me, and you won," Loki says easily. It is one of Loki's greatest talents, that. The way he can get exactly what he means to, and then convince his opponent that he's the victor. Everyone always believes Loki so weak because of it, because he always gives the glory to another. 

Fandral has always seen through it. He knows that Loki's the only one of them that's never truly lost a fight. 

"You had your demands, and I could not meet them," Loki reminds him. "It doesn't mean we cannot be friends." 

"You think we should go back to how it was?" he demands. "You think I could?" 

"I don't think things ever stopped being the way they were," Loki says. "You just see them differently now." 

"No, I've just realized that you will never be truly mine," Fandral says. He turns to watch him. "Will you?" 

"No," Loki agrees. "But is that so wrong? Should we not all keep something for ourselves? I feared if you insisted on having me completely I could give you nothing at all, that's why I had to leave." 

"You always have an answer for everything," Fandral says, laughing listlessly. "You can make anything seem reasonable. It's a terrible talent." 

"You would think reason terrible," Loki says, turning to leave. "I don't know why I bother with any of you." 

"Wait, don't go—" Fandral says, suddenly terrified when he sees Loki melding into the shadows. Loki always inspires that sort of fear. He is far too good at disappearing to trust that he will always be there. 

"And why should I stay?" Loki demands. "You want more than I can give, and I want something you don't even realize you have." 

"We could tell everyone the truth," Fandral says, insistently. "It's easy to think we can just give up when no one knows but us, maybe if we faced this, if we stopped hiding—" 

"Hiding is all I know how to do," Loki whispers. 

Fandral leans forward to try and hold onto him, but he falls straight through Loki's image, dispersing it into the air until it seems as though he was never there. Fandral doesn't know if it's some new trick, or if he's been talking to an illusion all this time. He laughs and rests his head in his hands. 

He wishes he could still be surprised.

5

Fandral is not quite asleep when he feels the rustling of the sheets. He keeps his eyes pressed closed for a moment longer, but he knows time won't stop moving beyond them. "Rushing off to battle, are we?" he asks finally.

"That's quite amusing, coming from you," Loki answers, as he slips from the bed. "You of the Warriors Three." 

"And you who would be King," Fandral replies, not meaning to sound quite so scathing. It only bothers him even more the way the words roll straight off Loki, like they don't hurt him at all. 

"I have no wish to be King," Loki says after a momentary pause. He reaches down and starts to dress. 

"But you don't want Thor to be." Fandral says. "It's not like the line of succession is all that long of a list." 

Loki glares over at him. "Perhaps you should submit yourself for consideration," he says. "Seeing as how wise you have recently become." 

"Loki—" Fandral sighs. "You know exactly what I mean." 

"Do I?" Loki demands. "Truly? What am I supposed to say to that?" 

Fandral lets out a breath and drops back against the pillows. He really doesn't want Loki to leave angry, not when he might not ever see him again. Things with Thor have been strained lately, mostly because Fandral wanted to challenge him half the time these days just to keep him from trying to run Loki's life. He hasn't been invited on the last three quests. 

Loki is far better suited to the task of talking Thor to reason, and he's not even trying. Maybe it's time to try another way. 

"Maybe neither of us has had the faith in Thor that we should," Fandral says. "Maybe it's time we tell him about us." 

"What about us?" Loki asks. 

"Don't do this," Fandral says, reaching out to grab Loki's arm. He already has his armored wrist guard on, so he slips right back out of his hold. "Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, not when you know what I'm going to say before I even say it."

"Perhaps you recall what happened the last time Thor thought he had caught us together?" Loki asks. "If I had not disguised myself he would have killed you." 

"We don't know that for sure," Fandral says uncertainly. "Anyway, he'll come around. We can't keep doing this, Loki. We can't keep meeting in the inns or locked up in your chambers, we need—" 

"We need what?" Loki asks. "I told you at the start, if we did this no one could ever find out. That was the bargain, was it not?" 

"Are you that ashamed of me?" Fandral demands. 

"I am that selfish," Loki corrects, glancing over at him. "I don't want to share you with the rest of them, but if I must I would rather they didn't know what we had at all. Here, like this, we're a secret and secrets are safe."

Fandral laughs, because coming from Loki that almost makes sense. "You're the only one that thinks that." 

"Secrets are never the problem," Loki insists quietly. "It's the truth that gets us into trouble."

3

Fandral can see Volstagg and Hogun spread out along the tree line. Sif is half hidden lying across a limb. Thor is standing in the shade of the forest, the light slanting through the leaves casting strange patterns across his skin.

And Loki stands completely still, right out in the open. 

Fandral can feel the tension in the air. He doesn't know why they agreed to this plan, why _Thor_ agreed to it, except that it is Loki's—and they always go along with Loki's plans, because they always work. 

They are all still bloodied from the first battle. They had come to Vanaheim to slay a dragon that had strayed too near the dwellings of the Vanir. It had not been as easy to do as Thor had implied it would be, and after limping away from the disastrous first fight Loki had casually suggested laying a trap. 

Dragons were drawn to magic—it was why it had come this far South in the first place. So Loki had oh-so-innocently offered to play bait. 

Fandral hadn't liked the plan, but once Loki had Thor talked around there was no getting through to either of them. 

"You need to _move,_ " Fandral whispers, glaring as Loki just stands there. 

He has a little sphere of light resting in the palm of his hand, and the dragon is swooping down out of the sky as though it's heard a siren's call—but Fandral's not watching the dragon, he's watching Loki. 

Loki, in turn, is watching the dragon as though he could unwind its thoughts. It terrifies Fandral just how not terrified Loki is, watching that creature bare down on him. He can see Loki's lips moving slightly, and he is certain the mad prince is counting. 

"Loki," he warns, but Loki doesn't acknowledge him. 

The sphere in his hand grows brighter, and the dragon is close enough now that Fandral can see the light reflected in its eyes. He knows the plan is to wait, that Loki is supposed to use the light to lead it towards the cliffs so they can lure it out of the village. 

Except Loki is looking at that dragon like he wants to see what it will do if he lets it close enough—like he wants to look it right in the eyes. 

Fandral pushes out of the trees on impulse, moving in front of Loki and striking out with his sword. He pushes it forward just as the dragon makes its final dive, and the sword cuts upwards, splitting its throat. Its wings falter and he tips. Fandral has to climb half up on its back to avoid being crushed. 

The dragon crashes to the ground and Fandral rolls backwards off of it, the air escaping his longs as he lands harshly on his back. He tilts his head and sees Loki standing behind him, upside down from this point of view. Loki tilts an eyebrow at him, seemingly caught between being outraged or amused. 

Thor sets Mjolnir on the ground beside them and leans against it with a grin. "Tired of waiting, were you, Fandral?" 

"Oh, you know me," Fandral says, as he crawls up to his knees. "Patience isn't exactly my greatest strength."

Loki lets out a strange, angry sort of sound, and then turns and stomps off into the trees. 

"Uh oh," Sif says slyly. "I wouldn't want to be you, Fandral. You know what happened to Volstagg when he didn't follow one of Loki's plans all the way through." 

"I still can't feel all the toes on my left foot," Volstagg says mournfully, looking down at his feet. 

Fandral ignores them, pushing himself up to chase after Loki into the trees. 

"I would leave him be!" Thor calls after him, laughing when Fandral doesn't stop. "Don't say we didn't warn you!" 

"Loki!" Fandral calls. He spins in place, but the forest seems empty. He can see the air and water sprites flittering around the edge of the trees, and they make him nervous. He prefers the gold walls of his city. "Loki!" 

He spins again and Loki is suddenly right in front of him. His arms are crossed and he looks rather unimpressed. "You cannot do that again," he says. 

Fandral glares at him. "I'm not the one that just scared you half to death!" 

"They will figure it out! They aren't exactly stupid, however so often they may seem to be," Loki says, apparently content to ignore Fandral's side of the conversation. "You cannot act as though you care for me." 

"I'm not going to stand by and watch you get hurt," Fandral promises. "Not while I still breathe. You can say whatever you want, but even your silvertongue won't cause that to change." 

"I was never in any real danger," Loki says dismissively. "I knew what I was doing." 

"That's what worries me," Fandral says. "Everyone says how reckless Thor is when he goes rushing into things, but no one is more reckless than you with a plan." 

"That comparison is hardly fair. My plans actually work, and they're generally implemented in order to get us out of whatever mess Thor has gotten us into in the first place," Loki says. 

"What happens when one time it doesn’t?" Fandral demands. "You talk of Thor's arrogance but you're just as bad as he. You're so certain of everything, you think you can get anyone to do anything you want." 

"I can get anyone to do what I want," Loki says. "It's the thing you like best about me." 

"You think you can get me to do whatever you want?" Fandral demands. 

"Well, of course not," Loki says. "That's the thing I like best about _you_." 

"Loki, I am trying to be serious," Fandral says. 

"So am I," Loki insists. He hears Thor calling for him and turns with a frown. "We need to go back." 

Fandral catches his wrist, pulling him back and trapping him against a tree. "I can't act like I don't care," he says quietly. "I don't think I would do it, even if I could." 

"They're going to think I've killed you," Loki protests, half-hearted. He starts to struggle, but goes pliant when Fandral steps closer. 

"Maybe you should," Fandral says. "Because that's the only way you'll get my indifference." 

"Or we could just end this, it would be rather less extreme," Loki says, and reaches up to put his arms around his neck. His fingers dig into the nape, his singular sort of power tricking between them where they touch. 

"No it wouldn't," Fandral decides, and moves forward for a kiss.

6

"I want to tell Thor."

"You want to tell him what?" Loki asks, dismissive. He is reading through an ancient spellbook and holding a conversation at the same time—Fandral would be insulted, except Loki manages it all the time. 

"About us," Fandral says. He glances up when he hears the book slam shut. 

Loki is staring back at him, his eyes narrowed. "No." 

"No?" Fandral repeats. "What sort of answer is that?" 

"One that I thought would be fairly easy to decipher," Loki says, returning his attention back to his book. "It doesn't leave much room for interpretation." 

"Which is exactly the problem," Fandral says. "Why is it just up to you?" 

"We had an agreement," Loki says. "I'm sure you recall it." 

"That was years ago," he protests. "We've changed since then. Even Thor's changed since then." 

"A promise is a promise," Loki says. "And whatever people say, I keep my word to the letter." 

"But you never said forever," Fandral reminds him. 

Loki looks up at him, and he seems indecipherably sad. It makes Fandral nervous, because Loki is always words ahead of him whenever they have a conversation. He's not quite sure he wants to catch up. "What is it you want from me?" 

"I don't want anything from you," Fandral says. "I just want you." 

Loki tenses, and Fandral realizes at once he's said something wrong. He's just not sure what. "You don't want to continue as we are?" he demands. 

"I don't think we can, anymore," Fandral says. "Please, Loki, let's just—" 

"Okay," Loki interrupts. He looks up, and his eyes give him away. "Then let's stop." 

"What?" Fandral asks. 

"If we can't go on," Loki says curtly, "then we must stop." 

"Stop?" Fandral repeats. He can feel his heart threatening to _stop_. "I didn't mean we should do that. All I'm asking is that we let the others know. I _love_ you, do you understand that? Do you know what it means? Because maybe I haven't made it clear enough—but I would do anything for you."

"You would do anything for me, but keep this secret," Loki watches him, expressionless. "And I would do anything for you, but tell the truth. So there doesn't seem much left for us to really do for each other at all, does there?" 

"I didn't—" Fandral starts. He wants to give in. He wants to say fine, then, we'll keep the secret. It's been six years, what's another hundred or so more? Except there is always going to be a stopping point, Loki is right about that. There will always be that moment where he can't do this anymore, where Loki can't do this anymore. 

They've always been doomed to fail, he realizes. And of course Loki's known it all along. 

"It's for the best this way," Loki says, and it angers Fandral how gentle he sounds. He doesn't want to be pitied. 

"I don't give in," he decides. "You know I don't give in." 

"Then consider this my surrender." Loki's gets to his feet and Fandral watches as his lashes cast shadows over his green eyes, making them even harder to read. He reaches out to try and grab him, but Loki smiles sadly as he moves just out of reach. "I'll let you win, just this once."

Fandral can't find his voice as Loki turns to go. He's never had a victory hurt quite like this.

9

Fandral is leaning back against the wall, sipping at a drink as he watches Thor and Loki across the room. They look at ease with each other in ways they haven't for years. For all of Loki's insistence that secrets could do no harm, he knows the strain theirs had put between the brothers.

"I want to thank you." 

Fandral nearly slips down the wall in his haste to straighten, and the Queen watches him with amusement though she makes no comment on it. Fandral clears his throat. "Thank me?" he asks. 

"You've helped him," she says, her eyes straying to Loki. 

Fandral shakes his head. "I haven't done anything," he says. 

"On the contrary, you've saved him," Frigga says. The Queen and King had been strangely accepting of Fandral's courtship of their son, and for weeks he had been certain it was some sort of trap. 

After months of having Frigga drag him and Loki from place to place as she made wedding arrangements, he finally had to accept that this was happening. No more excuses. No more stalling. 

Fandral's family was respected in Asgard, and he knew that though he probably wouldn't have been their first choice there was nothing very scandalous about their match. Still, he had never expected them to be this welcoming. Maybe some of Loki's fear of the truth had started to reach him as well. 

"You don't have to look so frightened," Frigga whispers, her voice gentle and amused. "I've always known that neither of my sons were ever going to end up with anyone I might expect. You are quite the pleasant surprise." 

"My lady?" Fandral questions with a frown. 

"I've always worried for Loki's future," she says softly. "He's so long been in Thor's shadow." She smiles then and looks back towards him. "Then you came along, and chose him. You put him before anyone else. It shames to say I think you're the first one who ever has." 

"And I always will," Fandral says. "I can promise you that." 

"Good," she says firmly. "I think you are good together, you make him happy." Frigga turns to watch Loki then, her smile growing fonder. 

Loki is laughing at something Thor has said, bright and unrestrained. He hasn't seen Loki that at ease in Thor's presence sine the night Thor walked in on them together. Whatever had really gone wrong that night, it seems as though Loki has finally put it all behind him. They look like equals the way they stand, neither of them crowding the other. 

"Loki was always such a happy child," Frigga says as they watch him. "It never took much to make him laugh, I don't know how none of noticed when he stopped." 

Frigga's eyes seem overly bright as she brings her hands down to smooth her skirt. "I think he's always just wanted some small piece of this world to have to himself," she says. "I just couldn't find it for him." 

It clicks in his mind then. He's known, of course, all along how frightened Loki's been of the truth, but he'd never really understood why. It wasn't so much telling his family, _telling Thor_ , it was that if he did it wouldn't be his anymore. Loki had so long been shoved to the shadows he grew too comfortable there. He'd been terrified that once everyone found out, Fandral would be taken from him too. 

"That's why he wanted to keep us secret for so long," he whispers. Frigga nods, as though she's heard all the workings of his mind. 

"Yes," she agrees, her voice faraway and sad. "I suspect it is."

2

It's so very fast that he doesn't realize what's happened until he slams backwards into the wall of Loki's room. He slides down towards the floor, his head pounding as he tries to blink his vision clear. Just a moment ago things had been good. Just mere _seconds_ ago he had been lying in the bed, in Loki's arms.

And then Thor, loud, lumbering _Thor_ , had somehow snuck up on them.

"Thor, I can explain—" he starts urgently, scrambling back to his feet, only to be startled out of his explanation by a sudden laugh from Thor. His eyes shoot to the bed and he blinks as he sees a maiden there, modestly clutching sheets to her heaving breast. 

She is beautiful in ways hard to describe, with long, curled brown hair and Loki's green eyes. 

"My apologies, my lord," she says breathlessly, lowering her gaze. "Prince Loki had offered us the use of his room, we did not realize you would have requirement of it or I assure you that we would not be here." 

"Think nothing of it," Thor says gently. "I am sorry for interrupting." Thor steps backwards and turns towards the door. "Fandral? A moment?" 

Fandral gives Loki one last concerned glance before pushing out the doors after Thor. Thor is waiting for him in the middle of the hall, looking awkward. Thor didn't have any idea just how awkward this really was. 

"Where is Loki?" Thor asks after a moment of cloying silence. 

"I believe he was riding today," Fandral says. "I—that is, I mean. The lady. She wanted to see the palace. And Loki said, he—" 

"It is fine," Thor says, though he's frowning like he knows there is more going on than he knows. He wears this look often around Loki, who tends to manipulate his brother for sport. "I didn't mean to scare your maiden." 

"Yes, my maiden," Fandral says quickly. "I should check on her." 

"I am needed elsewhere in any case," Thor says, but he doesn't quite let Fandral escape before he reaches out and grabs him by the arm. "I'm glad that I was mistaken about what was going on. However, I hope this will serve as a warning should you ever think to get into my little brother's bed, while he is the one that's in it." 

Fandral carefully pries Thor's fingers off his arm. "Of course," he says, swallowing hard. 

Thor nods sharply and then takes off down the hall. Fandral rushes back into the room. He's surprised to see Loki hasn't yet shed the disguise. He glances up when Fandral closes the door behind him, and that's when he realizes that the terror that had been on the 'maiden's' face before had not been manufactured purely for Thor's benefit. 

There have been those known to call Loki a coward, but Fandral has seen Loki face down all manner of monsters in battle and never flinch, and he is the only one of them that has ever defied Thor during one of his rages save Odin himself. 

This sort of terror now doesn't make any sense at all. 

Fandral climbs up on the bed and reaches out gently to cup the maiden's face, letting out a grateful breath as it melts away beneath his hands, leaving Loki staring back. He still hasn't stopped shaking, and Fandral can see the magic sparking at his fingertips. It's only then he realizes that Loki had been preparing to attack his own brother, getting ready for a fight that could have brought the very walls down around them. 

Only at the last minute clever little Loki had come up with a way to get them out of this with no one getting hurt, just the way he always does. 

Fandral takes his hands to try and still them, ignoring the little flickers of energy that bite against his fingers. "Loki, Loki, stop, it's fine, he didn't hurt me, okay, it's fine." 

"He doesn't see me at all, does he?" Loki asks. He sounds broken and Fandral doesn't know what to do here, he doesn't understand what's wrong. This is not unexpected from Thor at all. These types of outbursts have happened half a dozen times before, and it's not the first time Fandral's been tossed across a room. 

"Loki—" he starts, not sure what to say. 

"He thought we were together," Loki says. "He thought that you—and he would have killed you." 

"He is just protective," Fandral says. "You know how he is." 

"Protective?" Loki asks in disbelief. He pulls away abruptly, closing his hands to fists, stilling his magic and his trembling all at once. "He gave no thought to me." 

"Loki, it's fine, you fixed it, like always," Fandral says helplessly. He's never been very good at fixing things himself. 

"It is a merely an illusion, that's all, nothing has been fixed," Loki says. "If he knew what you really were to me, if he knew, and he could still do that, it would destroy me." 

Fandral crawls further into the bed, pulling Loki into his arms. "He didn't know," he says. "He couldn't have." 

"What if he does? He would destroy me, and not even realize what he'd done," Loki says, looking up at Fandral with tear-brightened eyes. "He would destroy us both." 

"We won't let him," Fandral decides. "I will protect you from your protector, and you will protect me." 

Loki finally relaxes against him, reaching out to weave their hands together. It is one of the few forms of contact that Loki ever initiates between them. It always feels to Fandral like some sort of ritual. 

"Sometimes I think I could hate him," Loki admits. "I truly think I could." 

"But you don't," Fandral says. "And you won't." 

"I don't know why, but when you say such things I believe you," he says. "I believe you even though I never believe anyone else." 

Fandral places a chaste kiss on the side of his head. "It's because I swore I'd never lie to you." 

"I don't know how you manage that," Loki says after a moment's pause. "I think I'd come undone."

8

"It is not often I find you sitting alone."

Fandral looks up in surprise to see Thor. He shrugs. "Even I need time to myself," he says. 

"You seem to be taking more and more of it," Thor says, dropping down beside him. "It's very unlike you." 

Fandral grins slightly. He's been unlike himself for a very long time—but it's hard to outpace a reputation. "Then I shall endeavor to be more myself," he decides, and drinks down another mug. "Just get me three more of these." 

"What has happened between you and Loki?" Thor asks quietly. 

His voice is soft and serious and it stops Fandral in his tracks. Six years together and Thor never noticed a thing—two years after things to start falling apart, and that's when he wants to bring it up? 

"I don't know what you mean," Fandral says. 

"You used to work well together," Thor says. "This last year you won't meet his eyes. You stare at him constantly but only when he's not looking your way." 

"You know Loki and his tricks," he says finally. "I'll get over it, someday." 

"What did he do?" Thor asks curiously. 

Fandral's eyes wander across the room, unconsciously seeking Loki out. "It's more what he wouldn't do," he says. 

"You shouldn't be so hard on him," Thor says. "Loki means well. He always does. I'm sure he never meant to upset you." 

He looks back at Thor in surprise. "I thought you wanted to protect him from me?" he asks wryly. "I wouldn't think you'd want us getting close." 

Thor barks out a laugh. "I'd nearly forgotten about that," he says. "I never did ask you, whatever possessed you to use Loki's room for such a thing? Surely you could have rented a room." 

"The thrill, I guess," Fandral says. 

"Whatever happened to her?" Thor asks, his brow furrowing. "She had such familiar eyes, though I am certain I never saw her before or since." 

Loki laughs then, from all the way across the room, a loud bright sound that draws Thor's attention. It's just like Loki—causing trouble, even when he doesn't mean to. Thor looks over at his brother and Fandral can see the moment he puts the pieces together, the very moment that he recognizes those beautiful green eyes. 

Green eyes have always been rare in Asgard.

Thor's mug shatters as his hand clenches around it, though it is thankfully empty. The only damage is the shattered shards that go bouncing across the surface of the bar—and this was Asgard, broken shards were hardly anything new to find in a tavern. 

"Now, Thor," Fandral warns. "Just wait—" 

"How long?" Thor asks, his voice level. Fandral is surprised to hear hurt instead of anger, and he has to remind himself again that this is not the same Thor from all those years ago. They are all different now. 

"Eight years," Fandral says. "Off and on." 

"Eight—" Thor starts, before visibly getting himself under control. "Eight years." He glances back towards his brother. "I would expect such secrecy of Loki, but not of you." 

"I did it for him," Fandral says quietly. "It was promise." 

"Why wouldn't he want me told?" Thor demands. 

"Do you perhaps recall our earlier conversation? It was only a moment before," Fandral says, his tone gentle but just a little caustic underneath. It's not a voice he used to have, it's a remnant of Loki's influence, a little piece that snuck inside him. 

He never used to resent Thor, they'd always been such good friends. But the Golden Prince and Loki's older brother were two very different creatures, and neither quite resembled his friend. 

"I would not have hurt you too badly," Thor protests half-heartedly. "Even if I'd known then that it truly was Loki in that bed." 

"You threw me into a wall," he reminds him. "Admittedly I'm far more resilient than I look, but it left with me quite the headache." 

Thor narrows his eyes at him. "I had thought you were merely making a conquest of him. If I'd known—" he breaks off, looking so uncertain. "Well, I wasn't exactly known for waiting for explanations back then." 

"Not really, no," Fandral agrees. "But if you'd asked I would have told you I loved him." 

"Then what has happened?" Thor demands, his eyes returning to that strange piercing stare. That was the way Thor looked in a battle that counted, after all his laughter and his arrogant proclamations—this is what was always left, that surefire determination to protect the people he loves. "I won't easily forgive you if you've broken his heart." 

"This is Loki," Fandral says. "I don't think I even got near it." 

"I thought you knew better than to fall for one of my brother's illusions," Thor says. "You're the only one he's never quite been able to fool. Don't let him start now." 

Fandral laughs, wondering at how insightful Thor has become. "That's lovely sentiment, and I know very well you're right," he says. "The trouble is getting Loki to believe it, and he won't. Loki's always been terrified of the truth." 

Loki looks over at them then, his eyes finding Fandral's like they've been tethered. He frowns a little when he sees the way he and Thor are sitting together, before Sif draws his attention away again. 

"I think you're right," Thor says. "We all have our weaknesses. If you want to be worthy of him, you need to make up for those weaknesses with your strengths. That's how partnerships work." 

"When did you get so wise?" Fandral demands, squinting at him in disbelief.

Thor laughs heartily. "I have been lucky in my choice of friends," he says, before sobering. "I just want my brother happy. He's been more balanced, different, these last few years. I did not know what had caused the change, but I suppose it could only have been you." 

Fandral knows then what he has to do. He feels a little like he had right before he had slain that dragon, that calm determination before a last effort to save a doomed battle. He won't betray Loki, even now, he'll keep his secret. 

But there's really no reason he can see to keep his own. 

He moves past Thor, determinately climbing up onto the bar. Thor reaches for him, but too late. "Fandral," he calls in concern. "What are you doing?" 

He ignores him, his heart beating in his ears as he stares across at Loki. Loki's noticed what he's doing, of course. Loki notices everything. 

"I would like to make an announcement," Fandral calls, lifting his mug dramatically. Thor keeps glancing between him and Loki, a guilty look on his face like he thinks he's the cause of this. 

Depending on how it ends, Fandral might just let him take the blame. 

"Come on then," Sif calls, laughing over at him. "What is it?" 

"I am in love," Fandral says, grinning widely. The tavern patrons let out an almost collective groan. 

"When aren't you?" someone mutters at the back. Fandral doesn't let it faze him. 

"As a matter of fact I have been hopelessly, incurably in love for the last eight years," he says, and the muttering dies down as silence washes over everyone. They seem to be uncertain if this is real, it's as though they are waiting for the joke. 

All of them except for Loki, who for all his clear, serene expression, looks terrified out of his wits. 

"You're drunk," Loki says evenly. "You should come down." 

"I need you to know that it's always been you," Fandral says, putting a hand to his heart. He keeps his eyes on Loki and everyone else seems to just fade away. "I love you more than anything in any realm and I would die for you, a hundred times, if you asked me to." 

"Why are you doing this?" Loki demands, stomping closer. "What do you want from me?" 

Fandral passes his mug off to Thor, crouching down so he can see into Loki's eyes. "I want your heart," he says. "I'd settle for a kiss." 

He knows that Loki will understand this is a renegotiation of terms. This is Fandral offering himself with no expectations, with no secrets. It's a concession. He won't ask for more, but Loki needs to finally let in the truth. 

He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until Loki pulls him close to steal it, dragging him forward in a kiss that has the entire tavern roaring its approval. Fandral stumbles off the bar as Loki struggles to hold them up, and he laughs in relief. 

"See, that didn't hurt, did it?" he asks. "The nine realms haven't fallen. Volstagg's already gone back to his drink. And we can be together, if that's what you want." 

"You're mad," Loki says in wonder. 

"That's why you love me," he says. 

Loki just watches him for a moment, before pulling him close again. "Yes, I suppose it is."

1

It's not as though Fandral hasn't thought of it a hundred times before. Fandral often thinks of kissing others—almost everyone, if he's honest. He's good at it, and everyone has this certain signature, this unique type of life to them. He likes to puzzle it out. Fandral has always loved everyone.

Still, it takes him by surprise, when one day he realizes it is Loki he loves the most. 

He always imaged some heroic kiss after a battle fought side-by-side. The remainder of the Warriors Three calling out in laughter while Sif looks away. Thor was never present in these fantasies—Fandral valued his life. 

It ends up nothing like that at all. He finds Loki in the gardens alone, sitting beneath a tree with a book. It's not that it's such a very uncommon scene. He's probably done it a thousand times before. 

This time the light slips across him to light him up like a painting, and Fandral can't catch his breath. He's never realized before just how beautiful Loki is. His features are curving and innocent and all the more interesting because Fandral knows just how innocent he's _not_ , and his eyes sparkle like gems against the light and trap him the very moment they meet his own.

He drops down beside him and Loki watches him with suspicion. Loki is always suspicious, so Fandral doesn't take offense. He plans to gain his trust, if it's the last thing he ever does. 

"Loki," he starts, his voice catching. 

"Yes?" Loki demands. "What is it that you want?" 

"Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful?" he asks. 

Loki tenses, closing his book. "I do not have time for this," he says, but when he moves to stand Fandral grabs his wrist and tugs him back down. 

"I don't say that in jest," he promises. "You know I am many things, but I never lie." 

Fandral has always, if anything, been far too honest for his own good. It was a common point of teasing for the Warriors Three—who often thought Loki lied too much, and Fandral not enough. 

"You like everyone," Loki says finally, shrugging a little. "And I don't plan to become one of your stories." 

"And what if the story is meant to end with you?" Fandral asks. 

Loki laughs then, and Fandral wonders if he's never heard him truly laugh until now. "You have a way with words, I'll give you that," he says. 

"I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you," Fandral says. 

"That's why I like you, Fandral," Loki decides. "You know how to battle with words." 

"I am weary of battle," Fandral decides. "I'd rather steal a kiss." 

"You certainly think highly of yourself," Loki says. "Did you forget I am a prince?" 

"I certainly haven't forgotten what sort of prince you are," Fandral says dryly. 

"Meaning?" Loki asks primly. 

"You like to pretend you're proper, but you break more rules than Thor," Fandral says. 

"Incorrect," Loki says, leaning close. "I have never had need to break a single rule, not when I can just as easily bend them till they fit." 

"There is not a single rule in all of Asgard forbidding a kiss," Fandral says, grinning slyly. 

Loki looks startled for a moment, unsure suddenly which side he's been arguing for, and he narrows his eyes. He's not used to losing his footing in a conversation. "And if I give you a kiss, what will you give me?" 

"Well," Fandral says. "A kiss." 

"I meant something I want," Loki says dryly. 

"You wound me, Loki, truly," he says, lying down across the grass, resting on an elbow with a sigh. "There are maidens that have fought to have a kiss from me." 

"The way I remember it, they fought because you'd kissed them both," Loki says. 

"You act as though you do not trust me," Fandral says. 

"I don't trust anyone," Loki says easily. 

"Not even Thor?" he asks. 

Loki just laughs. "Thor, especially." 

"Then that is what I'll give to you," Fandral says. "If you give me a kiss." 

"Trust isn't something you can give," he counters. "It's something that must be given." 

"What if I swore an oath, that I will never tell you a lie?" Fandral asks. "Would you trust me then?" 

"Honesty is no guarantee of anything. People often admit to horrible things," Loki says, but he looks intrigued. "But you would swear that? Why?" 

"What need would I have to lie," Fandral asks, "if I had you?" 

"Alright," Loki says hesitantly, "a single kiss." 

Fandral pushes himself up and cups Loki's face, pulling him forward gently until their lips meet. He can feel something beneath the softness of Loki's lips, a sort of power that seeps from his very skin—it trickles out across Fandral's own, and he pulls back with a gasp. 

He sucks in air for a moment and then grins. "Since I have promised to be honest," he says, "I feel I must admit I have no intention of kissing you only once." 

Loki's eyes are dancing, and Fandral knows he felt it too. "I would have another promise, first," he says. 

"Anything," Fandral agrees at once. 

"We cannot ever tell anyone," Loki says. "If we do this, it stays between us." 

It is so like Loki to trade their first kiss for honesty, but only allow another if he agrees to deceit. But the bargain is already struck: he said he would never lie, and he's already promised _anything_. 

"You have my promise," he says, and leans forward to kiss Loki again. He feels it again, straight to his soul, like nothing he's ever felt before. "But are you sure of your terms?" 

"Huh?" Loki asks, distracted as Fandral's hands slip beneath his shirt. 

"Not anyone?" Fandral questions, pressing tiny kisses along his neck. "Not ever?" 

"Well," Loki allows, "forever _is_ a very long time."


End file.
